Pillars
by yeah-well-hey
Summary: In a Republic City bar, a suicidal Lieutenant hears one of Amon's speeches for the first time. This short story is set in the Spreading Fires AU. The scene is alluded to in the chapter titled "Lieutenant".


**Pillars**

[POV: Lieutenant]

The glass before me is empty.  
I drift in and out of existence, still bound to the prolonged agony of consciousness.  
_Let me die._  
Tonight, like every night before it, I have shamed myself. I sit here, my face against the wooden counter of the bar, waiting for another drink. With my finger, I drag the coin around in circles, in endless, pointless circles.  
"Give... me... another glass... of liquor," I mumble.  
But the bartender's pity has turned to contempt.  
"No more drinks for you, understood? You've had enough."  
I slam my fist against the counter.  
"Another glass!" I shout, unable to control my voice.  
"I should have you thrown out of here, you drunkard!"  
_Yes, a drunkard. It's what I am now. A drunkard._  
"Go on, _try._"  
"Where'd you get all that money, anyway?" the coward asks.  
I sneer, about to burst out laughing.  
"Some barman in another tavern gave it to me. Paid me to come drink here instead."

He becomes angry and turns around, unwilling to deal with me any longer. He comes back only once, to slide a glass across the counter, towards me.  
"Here. This one's on the house. But you better leave when you're done, understood?"  
I grab the drink and raise it above my head to salute the barman's generosity.  
"Long live Republic City!" I proclaim.  
Then I bring the glass to my lips, and drink it all at once.  
_Let me die._  
I feel dizzy, like the room around me is spinning. Like it won't stop spinning, the walls won't stop spinning. My head sinks, and falls back against the cold counter.

* * *

I wake up, still at the bar. The disappointment of being alive stabs me in the throat and I think I am about to cry, when something captures my attention.  
There is a man across the room. Everyone is turned towards him, even the bartender, who seems to have forgotten his threats.  
The man is speaking. He stands under soft red lights. He wears a hood, and beneath that hood, there is no face, but a mask.  
A mask with red circle, a red circle under red lights.  
_I know this man._

I remember that cursed day in the fields, with my old teammates. Those bastards whose lives I failed to take. Whose lives I was _unable_ to take. He'd stepped in. Neutralized them. Sucked away their bending...  
It finally hits me. It was no illusion. It was _real._  
"...the depravity of benders being the direct cause of this rotting city's misery. Of the _whole world's_ misery. Brothers and sisters, we have been indoctrinated, conditioned to believe in the superiority of those who use their bending to murder, pillage, enslave, _oppress_. How many of you have had to kneel in front of a bender's power? How many of you have been denied work that was given instead to a bender? How many of you have been lead to understand that you are lesser human beings, because you do not master any of the elements? How many crimes have been perpetrated against you? How many hours have you spent in silence, when you longed to speak out? A time will come when non-benders will rise from the shadows and put an end to the reign of benders. That time, my brothers and sisters, is nearer than you think. That time is _now_."

My gaze is fixed upon him. I'm afraid that if I blink, he will disappear, as in a dream. He speaks with such eloquence, such gravity. Every single one of his words resonates through my head, seems carved from an ancient Truth that he has recovered from the depths of the Earth. As he speaks, I listen. The fog gently fades, and Death no longer holds any appeal for me. His voice is deep, premonitory. I believe him. _Oh, I believe him._

"...their sickness is such, that they themselves cannot see it. It has blinded them, filled them with arrogance. Their self-obsession has turned their gift into a curse. The spirits are as angry as we are, my brothers and sisters. We walk along the roads like vagrants, while benders live in glory as gods. But there can be no higher beings than the spirits..."

He speaks and speaks and speaks, and I absorb everything he says. I drink it up like liquor, and my mind becomes elated, drunk. It's been almost an hour now. I want to rise to my feet, but I am pinned to my seat, unable to move.

"...there is no other way, we must unite, my brothers and sisters. Let our suffering unite us. Yes, _let our suffering unite us._ We must no longer seek the approval and benevolence of benders. They are not above us, and we are not below! Let us seek their _fear!_"

There is cheering, clapping in the crowd. "Put an end to the reign of benders!" one man yells. My head begins to throb. I feel nauseous.

"I am here because I wish to offer myself to you as your leader. My brothers and sisters, if you join me, I promise to take you to victory! Help me end the reign of benders! Help me defend non-benders against the tyranny of this city's criminals, of this city's police, of this city's council, of this entire world's _benders!_"

He is my saviour. I sense it in my bones.

"My name is Amon, and I wish to fight for all non-benders who are tired of being crushed under the iron fist of the bending oppressor. Help me in this endeavour, and I swear to you now that you will not be let down."

The lights turn off, and he is gone. I begin to weep, for I am ashamed. All this time I had wanted my life to end, when I should have wanted for it to be _renewed._

* * *

I manage to stand up. Scrambling, I make my way through the crowd. I cannot lose him now. I refused to follow him once; it cannot happen again.  
"Where is he?" I ask one of the waitresses, but she pulls away.  
"Get away from me, you drunkard!"  
I seize her.  
"Where did he go?"  
"Don't touch me!" she yells.  
"Just tell me where he is!"  
"Who are you talking about?"  
"That man who spoke... _Amon._ Where did he go?"  
"I don't know," she answers, "I think he went out through the back!"  
I leave her, hoping it's not too late.

There is a man standing by the back door. He stops me before I can even touch the knob.  
"The exit's on the other side. Turn around."  
"He went out through here, didn't he?"  
"Who?"  
"Amon!"  
"What's it to you?"  
"I want to speak to him!" I scream, ready to fight off whoever dares to stand in my way.  
"You, and a million other people," he scoffs. "He didn't want to speak to anybody tonight. Don't worry, he'll be back. He's trying to gather interest in his cause. Wants people to talk about him. He's been in all sorts of different places non-benders go to."  
"Just let me pass! I need to speak to him!"  
"Are you deaf? I said he didn't want..."  
Before he can finish his sentence, I hit him across the face. Adopting a fighting stance, I wait. His response is swift. He throws a punch at me but I elude him. I place my foot behind his leg and cause him to fall. He does not know whom he is dealing with.  
"I'm sorry," I breathe as make my way out the door.

I find myself in a back alley. It reeks of filth. I hurry, stepping in the ponds of dirty water as I follow the dark shadow moving ahead.

I call its name.

"Amon!"  
He stops, turns around and his merciless yellow eyes scorch me from afar.  
"Do you... do you remember me?" I ask, stepping forward.  
The man considers me in silence, giving no reply.  
"You... You saved my life. In that field, back in Pheng Ye. It's been a year now. Those benders were trying to kill me. They were beating me to death, and you... I know about your powers, Amon. I witnessed them. You... You removed their bending, didn't you?"  
"What do you want?"  
His voice betrays no emotion. It asks a question, and demands an answer.  
"Let me join you, Amon," I tell him.  
"I asked you to join me once," he replies. "But you refused."  
"I didn't trust you. I thought you were mad, and I... I wanted to come work in Republic City. I wanted to bury myself here. My life is a failure. I have accomplished nothing, save from trusting the wrong people and disgracing myself. But now I see. Now I see that you are not like the others. You give hope even to a man who no longer wishes to have any."  
"How strange fate is," he muses. "That we should both choose to come here. That we should meet again. Yet I know it is but the will of the spirits."  
"Give me another chance. Tonight, I have listened to you, Amon. Everything you've said... It's opened my eyes. All this time I've been blaming myself for wanting benders to accept me. But it's their wickedness I should have despised the most. Instead, I've despised myself. I was ready to throw my life away, and you showed me what a selfish waste that would have been. You've inspired me, given me an example to follow."  
I take another step in his direction.  
"You saved my life, Amon. In return, let me dedicate mine to yours. I wish to serve you," I say.  
"It is not _me_ you must serve," he dryly replies. "Understand that serving me means serving the Revolution. I am the Revolution, and the Revolution is me. I have given up my life for it, and so must you. There can be nothing else in your life from this day forward."  
"Then so be it. I am ready."  
"Your spirit burns with both hope and despair. I have known it since the moment I met you. That is why I asked you to join me a year ago. I need someone who feels as I do, who can stand by my side and aid me as I begin to build the Revolution. Many have told me that my speeches have inspired them, but none so far have asked me to let them join me as you did tonight. Not with such courage, such conviction. Most men are cowards, afraid to stand up and defend themselves. Afraid to try and change things. But with your help, I hope I can make this movement grow. We shall be its pillars, you and I. Are you prepared for it? To withstand such heavy weight on your shoulders?"  
"Yes," I answer.  
"Very well. Then meet me here tomorrow night. I want you to reflect. To cleanse yourself."  
He looks at me as though he can see all the liquor poisoning my body. I feel disgusted with myself, disgusted to be standing like this in the presence of a man so painfully above me.

He turns to leave, but I call out for him again.  
"Amon!" I cry. "Wait! Do you not want to know my name?"  
"No," he replies. "Your name does not matter anymore."  
"But I want you to know it."  
I see the back of his hood now. He is walking away.  
"Very well," he declares. "Say it to me, and never speak it again."

The sound of my name echoes through the air one last time, and slowly fades away into oblivion.


End file.
